The Last Hope
by manta321
Summary: Lore is a young teenaged civilian soldier fighting for independence on Galaluna. Though she's been given none professional Galalunian training, she is the perfect soldier. She's smart, dependent, and a crack shot. The only thing that separates her from the rest of the rebels is her lost hope in the princess. That is...until now.
1. Chapter 1

**there are so many fics about Lance and Ilana's adventures on Earth, but what about the war going on, on their home planet? I own all OCs. All rights reserved. **

**Enjoy:**

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Explosions. Darkness. Agony. These three things to hand in hand when the war for Galalunian independence. I guess it wouldn't be a war if they didn't, but war wouldn't be a good word for it. War suggests both sides have an equal chance of winning, and we were being annihilated by the Mutraddi like ants in a flood. We didn't stand a chance. With our king held captive and tortured for information on the location of our princess, most of the elite guard wiped out, and our entire planet practically dominated by the invaders, almost all hope was lost. Though the vessel of our last remaining hope, was far out of the Mutraddi's hands. Princess Illana had escaped during the first wave of the enemy's attack along with a Corporal under strict orders to protect her.

Sometimes I wish there was a way out of this mess for me, and I'm not the only one. Crouching in the midst of rumble that had once signified the great power of the Galalunian empire with a sniper rifle clutched to my chest wasn't exactly how I thought I'd be spending my weekend. I was one of the civilian soldiers that had been forced into military command after we'd lost most of the Royal Guard to an advanced sneak attack orchestrated by none other that General Modula. Right after the invasion began word leaked out that the "great" General had betrayed the crown and made a contract with the Mutraddi. Kill the princess and take the king hostage to enslave an entire race if people sounds pretty full-proof to me. If it didn't have so many holes in it. The General was completely relying on luck, on his knees praying that he would succeed. He almost was. Who would respect a planet-wide war hero who risked his life for the betterment of Galalunian kind?

I'm one of the few who have completely given up hope on the princess. Instead of leaving to save us, I believe she left to save herself. If the princess really care for us, she should be down here fighting for her life instead of hiding out in a far corner of the galaxy where goddess knows she's living a life of luxury.

Blowing some of my long electric blue curls stained with soot and singed by fire out of my face, I peeked out from behind the giant slab of concrete concealing me from the Mutraddi patrolling the streets searching for me and me and the rest of the rebel faction. There's only a faction of us still fighting back, the rest have either been captured or killed by the ruthlessness if the Mutraddi.

I stared through my scope at the ugly creatures as the strolled through our streets. Streets that had once been full of peaceful Galalunians. I'm remember back when the streets were a place where merchants and commoners could trade items with vegetables or fruits naturally grown in the surrounding farms that made up most of the city-like kingdom. Now the streets were a dangerous place only the most skilled and brave soldiers were permitted to enter.

Permitted. It wasn't an 'enter at your own risk' kind of thing that stupid teenagers constantly did. It was a military term for 'stay the hell away from here'. Even some of my comrades were too scared to join me on the streets hunting Mutraddi. That's why I was moved from regular civilian class to special opts. That and my impressive sniping skills.

Speaking of sniping, my finger squeezed the trigger and one of the disgusting dog-like creatures went down. I quickly moved into a half-demolished building, jogging up the stairs to the third floor. I propped up the rifle so the barrel just barely poked out of the window. And down goes another lizard-humanoid Mutraddi.

"Easy Cadet," my squad leader, Clive, spoke through my com. I smiled as I detected a hint of impressed sarcasm in his voice.

"Yeah, Lore!" A second voice, I recognized as Mackie Jordan, sounded over the com-link as I watched a huge squirrel-like Mutraddi fall to the floor. "Gotta save some for the rest of us!" I smirked as a hybrid tiger/frog invader dropped to the floor, a bullet pierced its right eye. I always hit them dead in the eye, no matter what.

"Now boys," I mutter moving from window to window to dodge any attacks the Mutraddi might throw in the offensive, "if I left some for you there'd be absolutely no fun in it." Another three hit the ground as I quickly climbed to the next floor. Galalunian special opts was nothing to laugh about. We were the best of the best, even better than the elite guard. Maybe because we were only assembled during dire times, war. In this case, both.

I fired, shooting a Mutraddi dead in the forehead. I watched solemnly as the creature collapsed on the ground. This is what we did. No older than sixteen and had already earned the title of murders. Maybe this was General Modula's plan all along. To turn a peaceful society into a race that only knows how to kill. That's what he did to me. I couldn't remember a time when I wasn't on my stomach firing rounds at the enemy. The higher-ups say that we all fight for the same thing. In their minds, they believe us civilian soldiers fight for what we had before. But freedom and unity don't keep you alive. Survival is what I fight for.

Basic science, those who can't defend themselves are better off dead. That's the rules of the universe. There are no heroes or defenders of the weak. There are only the ones willing to fight for their lives, and then there are those who are stupid enough to believe we do it for a good cause.

Peeking through the scope again, I aimed at the last Mutraddi scampering around, looking for cover. This one was smaller than the others, an adolescent. And the bullet that shot straight through its head didn't care at all. Neither did its shooter. The ones who can't survive, find a place six feet under.


	2. Chapter 2

**all rights reserved**

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The cafeteria. A place to mingle, eat, and tell war stories. Also, a place where a plan of attack could be made. I stood at the end of the line scanning the crowd, searching for a seat. The crowd mostly consisted of men, shouting loudly while trying to get each other's hopes up. Almost all of them wore royal blue uniforms with the Galalunian crest sown into the back with gold thread. The uniform of a standard soldier that signified nothing but another pawn in this obnoxious game where the victor was already decided.

It wasn't long before my highly trained sniper-eye found an empty seat between two standard soldiers. My uniform was a bit more plain. A mixture of black clothing with the golden insignia of a tree sown into the back. It was what all the special opts initiates wore, and the standards were ordered to respect us. If only respect could be earned that easily.

The standards were silenced as soon as I climbed over the bench that was connected to one of the long tables lined up in rows across the room. I glared at them before turning my attention on to the slop we'd been eating for the past few weeks. It was a murky yellow color with unidentifiable lumps tossed into the mix. It was a way if saying our food supply was dangerously low. Going through with the daily routine, I shoved my fork into the slop and shoved it into her mouth. Ignoring the foul taste, I swallowed and took a second bite of my lunch.

It was then that I noticed the disgusted expressions of the standards watching me. The one sitting across from me looked up at the man observing over my shoulder. "Oi, Jatix!" The man jumped at his name and stared at his fellow standard. "Is it true that the specials do whatever the elite tell them to?"

Jatix shuffled his feet. He looked from me to his friend, unsure of what to say. Obviously not wanting to upset the standard or get on the wrong side of the specials. He remained silent as his friend rolled his eyes and looked expectantly at the standard next to him. "It appears so, Stain." The standard agreed sliding down next to Stain. "She's eating the very slime they want us to."

"Now, now Zog." Slain told him patting the man's arm, "They want us to eat this slop so they can feed the people of Galaluna." He explained to Zog who mocked a pouting face.

"But Slain?" Started Zog tilting his head playfully to the side, "Aren't we people of Galaluna?"

Slain mimicked a thoughtful expression. It was clear the duo had rehearsed this little play before, but their performance was sloppy and their acting was horrible. "That's true," Slain said dragging out the word 'true'.

"And aren't we more important than those hiding in the underground like scared rabbits?"

I slammed my fork loudly on to the table, silencing the standards around me. I stared downward at the mush slowly dissolving on the tray. I hated it when a simple standard thought it was right to insult the very people we had sworn to protect with our lives. I shoved my hand into the mixture of leftovers and waved it in front of the standard Slain's face, standing up in the process. "Eat it."

"What?" Slain said disbelief filled his voice as he watched me challenge him. Though a smile plagued his lips, I could seen humiliation and fear rising inside him. It felt good to know I was striking a nerve.

"You want food, don't you? Eat it." Ice was hardening behind my eyes, causing them to darken. Warning the standard he didn't have long before I would force-fed it to him. Slain cautiously picked up a spoon. He allowed the tip to hover dramatically over my hand before I grabbed his wrist and forced the spoon deep into the muck. I helped him wrench it out and shove it into his mouth. Pulling the utensil out, I saw him preparing to regurgitate. Jumping on top of the table, I grabbed his jaw staring him deep in the eyes. "Swallow."

He did. Gulping down the goo, his face literally turning a sickly green color. Slain looked up at me with pleading eyes as I dropped the ooze into a lumpy pile in front of him.

Before I could make him eat more of it, someone rushed one behind me and tore me away from the scene. We stopped at the table where most of the special opts eat. It was more of a mission briefing area. All the specials were so focused on the war. All work and no play seemed to be our slogan, but if that was the case I was a rebel. I could never sit through briefings, I didn't need to. They were all the same to me: sneak around the streets and kill any Matraddi stupid enough to be hunting us.

"What were you thinking?" Jazz asked me, her eyes wide with concern. Jazz wasn't on my unit, but she still pretended to be my friend. I guess since we were the only girls on the opts, she wanted someone like her to talk to. I never really understood the statistics of our relationship. As far as I could gather, she'd talk to me and I'd pretend to listen. "Do you know how much trouble you'll be in with the commander?" I rolled my eyes. Of course I did. The commander disliked any interaction between specials and standards. If only he knew he wasn't any better than General Modula.


	3. Chapter 3

**um k, all rights reserved and enjoy:**

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The battle compound was hidden twenty feet below the surface in an old military training camp. It had been shut down and abandon after Galaluna had turned into a peaceful planet, but had been reclaimed during the pressing war. Half the area was dedicated to training standards and the other half for the specials. Each week, one of us is tasked with the obnoxious task of turning ambitious younglings into cold blooded killers that follow orders without question or hesitation.

The correct term should be "scare them into submission". None of us specials want to waste our time revisiting basic so we just terrorize them until they finally break. It's also why the Commander uses it as a punishment, and I would be start tomorrow for breaking one of his major rules.

The Commander saw a well-defined line between specials and standards. He constantly compared us to dogs. Analogizing specials as the alphas of the pack. We are the strong ones that are always supposed to out the pack's well-being before our own. The standards are the omegas in this pack. As the Commander puts it "useless parts of the pack that can barely protect themselves."

Sighing, I collapsed into the small mattress called 'the bottom bunk' folding my arms behind my head. U shared the room with Jazz, but she hardly ever slept in this room. She was too dedicated to her job, and constantly curled up in the specials training facility. This was only to be expected for a girl who had lost her parents immediately after the invasion began.

I wonder what the princess would say to that. It had been her ship taking off that had caused most of us to get distracted with the fact that our very hope was abandoning us. Perhaps that's what caused Jazz's parents to be slaughtered right before her eyes. What kind of merciful princess would allow that?

Over the past few months I've slowly felt my respect for my ruler begin to slip into nothingness. I've figured out my problem, but there was nothing I could do about it, and all I had to look forward to was either death by Mutraddi or new recruits. Sadly, I couldn't decide which would be more painful.

"Hey!" Mackie jumped as the knife sailed a little to close to his head. "Are you trying to kill your best friend?" For the first time that day I smiled. Mackie always knew what to say, even when I almost cut off his head.

"Sorry, it's just," I threw another knife at the target grunting loudly mid-sentence, "I don't know."

"You're just upset because the Commander wants you to train newbies instead of helping us out on the battle field." Clive explained as he sharpened his own Galalunian saber. In my squadron we didn't refer to each other by ranks. When friends die, it's Clive's philosophy that if they call each other by the names they'd met each other on the other side as equals.

"When you put it that way," I replied hurling another dagger at the target, "you make me sound like I'm a self-centered brat."

"Sometimes you are." The knife was tossed at the head of Jackery, the fourth and last member of squad 119. He was a frequent soloist, always taking missions that didn't require his teammates. He was an expert scout, which is why he was useful to the Commander as he sent on personal missions that usually ended up classified or above my pay grade.

"Shut up," I told him as he yanked the knife out of the air, sticking it between his teeth.

"See? You're acting like one right now."


End file.
